Page 109 of The Pansy Paradox
“About being betrothed? Please.” This time, Pansy didn’t glance away. Instead, she treated him to a full eye roll, and the gesture nearly made him laugh. “Everyone I know from an old family is betrothed. I’m sure my mother is the only reason I’m not. She said it was all nonsense.”
“Not that you didn’t have offers.”
“Wait. What?”
He waved away the question. “Several, in your mother’s files, from every last old family in the Enclave. I’ll show you later.”
Pansy scooted back on the coffee table, her expression bemused. Then her eyes brightened with a mischievous light. “I guess rule six applies to me as well.”
“It’s clear your mother never entertained any of the offers, so you’re free.” Henry pulled in a breath. “I was hoping for the same thing. Before my father’s health declined, we spoke a great deal about regrets. He wanted me to know that I could make my own choices, especially when it came to the person I’ll spend the rest of my life with.”
Or not, given the divorce rate in the Enclave. Never, for a moment, did Henry believe his father regretted having a son. But following one of the Enclave’s rules meant following another, and yet another, until you had no choice but to follow them all.
“I grew up with my betrothed, and I do care for her, but I don’t love her the way someone should love the person they hope to marry. So I submitted my paperwork for an annulment. This was a few months before Ophelia’s coma, and my father’s death, but the High Council used both as an excuse to table the matter.”
Indeed they did, indefinitely. True, the jaunt halfway around the globe hadn’t helped matters. Nor had his anger.
“Well, that explains this.” She reached out and traced that pale band of skin still visible on his left ring finger. Her touch was so light, so careful, it was no wonder she could repair fissures so precisely.
“And then,” Henry added, “Botten sends me here with the implicit promise that if I do what he wants, he’ll push the annulment through the High Council.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head in thought. “You had a lot to lose in helping me, Agent Darnelle.”
“If I hadn’t, I would have lost something far more important.”
She didn’t ask, and he didn’t volunteer. A piece of him had been missing, perhaps the one that had kept him, in the past, from putting up and shutting up. This piece reminded him that there were rules, and then there were rules. The ones he followed were entirely up to him and his moral compass.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Of course.” Henry braced for the question. At this point, she had the right to ask him anything from the name of his betrothed to what he planned to do next.
“There’s a waitlist, right?”
It took him a moment, took seeing that mischievous glint in her eyes. Then he laughed. “Not as long as yours, Agent Little, should you care to avail yourself of it.”
“No one’s come knocking on my door.”
“Not yet. Don’t be surprised if there’s renewed interest once I submit your examination report.”
“No one wants to end up in a permanent post assignment.”
“I’m not so sure anymore.” Henry let his gaze wander. If he wasn’t mistaken, this room belonged to Pansy. It was a bit more whimsical than the front parlor, what with the pink-hued fairy lights, the shelves filled with books, the scattering of polka dots: a cup and saucer, multiple pillows and their matching blankets. “I think a permanent post assignment might suit me very well.”
Chapter 46
Ophelia
King’s End, Minnesota
Thursday, July 13
Once again, for those in the back: Is he flirting, ladies? Or merely stating fact? Whichever the case, Ophelia notices he’s neatly managed to delay treatment of his wound.
Another fact about Henry Darnelle: He truly is a terrible patient.
But Pansy’s having none of it. She gestures toward his chest, the aggressive wound that seems to be getting worse rather than better. That could be the physical compounding the psychic damage, but Ophelia isn’t so sure.
Because she’s never seen this before, not the wound, and not that tidbit of Henry chucking his betrothal ring into a sandstorm. The latter delights her more than it should. Even at his lowest, her brother never disappoints. He could start a trend. She can see it now. Enclave agents all over the world tossing their rings off cliffs and into hurricanes and posting the videos on social media. #DoneWithIt.
